Unfinished Business

an eye—a medical eye—on her for a few days. “Dad would still like to see you—personally, if not professionally.”
    “I’m going to drop by.” Still bent over the dog, she turned her head. In the growing dark, he caught the familiar gleam in her eye. “Joanie says you’ve got your hands full with women patients. I imagine the same holds true of your father, if he’s as handsome as I remember.”
    “He’s had a few…interesting offers. But they’ve eased off since he and your mother hooked up.”
    Dumbfounded, Vanessa sat up straight. “Hooked up? My mother? Your father?”
    “It’s the hottest romance in town.” He flicked her hair behind her shoulder. “So far.”

    “My mother?” she repeated.
    “She’s an attractive woman in her prime, Van. Why shouldn’t she enjoy herself?”
    Pressing a hand against her stomach, she rose. “I’m going in.”
    “What’s the problem?”
    “No problem. I’m going in. I’m cold.”
    He took her by the shoulders. It was another gesture that brought a flood of memories. “Why don’t you give her a break?” Brady asked. “God knows she’s been punished enough.”
    “You don’t know anything about it.”
    “More than you think.” He gave her a quick, impatient shake. “Let go, Van. These old resentments are going to eat you from the inside out.”
    “It’s easy for you.” The bitterness poured out before she could control it. “It’s always been easy for you, with your nice happy family. You always knew they loved you, no matter what you did or didn’t do. No one ever sent you away.”
    “She didn’t send you away, Van.”
    “She let me go,” she said quietly. “What’s the difference?”
    “Why don’t you ask her?”
    With a shake of her head, she pulled away. “I stopped being her little girl twelve years ago. I stopped being a lot of things.” She turned and walked into the house.

Chapter 3
    V anessa had slept only in snatches. There had been pain. But she was used to pain. She masked it by coating her stomach with liquid antacids, by downing the pills that had been prescribed for her occasional blinding headaches. But most of all, she masked it by using her will to ignore.
    Twice she had nearly walked down the hall to her mother’s room. A third time she had gotten as far as her mother’s door, with her hand raised to knock, before she had retreated to her own room and her own thoughts.
    She had no right to resent the fact that her mother had a relationship with another man. Yet she did. In all the years Vanessa had spent with her father, he had never turned to another woman. Or, if he had, he had been much too discreet for her to notice.
    And what did it matter? she asked herself as she dressed the next morning. They had always lived their own lives, separate, despite the fact that they shared a house.

    But it did matter. It mattered that her mother had been content all these years to live in this same house without contact with her only child. It mattered that she had been able to start a life, a new life, that had no place for her own daughter.
    It was time, Vanessa told herself. It was time to ask why.
    She caught the scent of coffee and fragrant bread as she reached the bottom landing. In the kitchen she saw her mother standing by the sink, rinsing a cup. Loretta was dressed in a pretty blue suit, pearls at her ears and around her throat. The radio was on low, and she was humming even as she turned and saw her daughter.
    “Oh, you’re up.” Loretta smiled, hoping it didn’t look forced. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you this morning before I left.”
    “Left?”
    “I have to go to work. There’re some muffins, and the coffee’s still hot.”
    “To work?” Vanessa repeated. “Where?”
    “At the shop.” To busy her nervous hands, she poured Vanessa a cup of coffee. “The antique shop. I bought it about six years ago. The Hopkinses’ place, you might remember. I went to work for them when—some time ago. When they decided to retire, I bought them out.”
    Vanessa shook her head to clear it of the grogginess. “You run an antique shop?”
    “Just a small one.” She set the coffee on the table. The moment they were free, her hands began to tug at her pearl necklace. “I call it Loretta’s Attic. Silly, I suppose, but it does nicely. I closed it for a couple of days, but… I can keep it closed another day or so if you’d like.”
    Vanessa studied her mother thoughtfully, trying to imagine her